


Past, present, future?

by olympia_m



Series: My pillow floats on a river of tears, so how can I have any dreams? [3]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Some angst, Suicide Attempt, Threesome, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: Some extra scenes (including ones previously at the Box of Sweets).Apologies, I am not thinking linearly when writing - and scenes (they're not even fics) often appear in my head after I write 'the end'.... in other words, there may be more of these (at least one).





	1. Chapter 1

The way the black stones slithered toward’s the centre of the goban was as aesthetically pleasing as it was triumphant. He smiled. This was developing into one of his best games yet. He reached for a stone when he felt a crippling pain in the middle of his chest that cut off the air in his lungs. He gasped, folding himself in two.

“Mibu-sama?”

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “Can you get me some tea?”

Tadashi nodded, stood up, and hurried out of the room. 

Saburo slowly sat up straight. He’d felt this pain once before, when his beloved Kaoru passed away. Closing his eyes he reached for the thread that connected him to his son. His stupid son. He felt it extend from his heart and followed it, pushing away his sadness. 

When Kaoru had passed away, the threat tying them had started turning to ash while he was still following it. He still remembered the feeling of trying to hold on to it while it disintegrated; the utter frustration and loss. And now he’d feel them again. 

But the thread went on and on, all the way to Kyoto, all the way to Gion, all the way home, all the way to the cherry tree, where it entered through it, and from there should lead him to his son. Instead, when it came out of the tree trunk it split.

In three separate threads. It shouldn’t be possible, but it did. One thread was cut and was already turning to ash even as he tried to figure out if this was the right one. Another was frayed so badly, with only one or two strands left intact. This thread would break soon; he could feel it. The last one was in the best condition of the three, but that too was beginning to fray. 

He recognized it; this was the one tying him to his son. It had been intact when he’d searched for it the previous month, all the strands tightly wound together, strong and shining. What had happened within a month to make it start deteriorating? 

Saburo heard footsteps outside his study, so he opened his eyes and waited for Tadashi to bring him his tea. “Thank you,” he said when the man did. “You may go.”

Tadashi frowned. “Mibu-sama, it would be better if I called your doctor.”

“No, I’m fine. Probably something I ate disagreed with me.”

“Should I bring you some chamomile tea, then? That’s good for the stomach.”

Saburo smiled. “A great idea. Yes, thank you.”

Tadashi bowed and left him alone again. Saburo sighed. Tadashi would now hover over him for the rest of the day. One thread from his side, one tree, three from the other side. He hadn’t heard of such a thing before, but his grandfather once told him of how he’d once had a strange dream; that he was himself and yet he wasn’t, living in Kokakurou but doing things differently, seeing a path he could have taken, but hadn’t. What if, what if the tree was showing him three different paths? 

Yet, the pain of losing Oriya had felt real enough; his chest still ached with loss, his hands still trembled, his eyes were bleary with tears. What if these were not different paths but different sons of his? In this universe his son was damaging himself, in another he was dying, in a third one he was dead. 

Was that the cherry tree showing him just some of the possibilities? Or was that his son’s doing? He wouldn’t put it past Oriya to have done something that could mess up with his world. Only if his stupid son had done it, it was probably by accident, a strange and sudden manifestation of his strength that Oriya wouldn’t even recognize. 

“Kaoru, why did you give me such a stubborn, irresponsible son?” 

His phone rang. “Mibu here.”

“Mibu-sama,” Tami-san said, sounding worried. 

“Yes?”

“The Young Master is unwell. He should take a break from work.”

“What is wrong with him?”

“Migraines. Constant migraines that interfere with his ability to work.” Tami-san sighed. “He’s been having them for over month now, so I’ve arranged for him to go to the hospital next week and have it checked.”

Saburo smiled. “Good idea, but...” He knew the doctors would find nothing wrong with Oriya.

“But?”

“Have you considered that it might be stress-related? If it is so, then going to the hospital will only stress him further.”

“But he’s not using any of his medication for stress. I checked.”

Saburo sighed with relief. He didn’t want Oriya taking those pills in the first place. Perhaps that was how that other son of his had died. Too many pills and too much alcohol in that house. “I think your first idea is best. He should take a break from work. How much time do you think he’d need?”

“At least two weeks.”

“Good. Let’s see how he does at the end of the month, and then we can talk again if he needs a longer break.” 

“Thank you.”

“His health is the most important thing to me,” he said seriously. When Kaoru had died, there was Oriya to make the pain of losing her bearable. If Oriya died too…. That would break him. “Tell him I love him.”

“I will,” Tami-san said. He could hear her smiling. 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on everything. I appreciate it.” He hung up. “Ah, Kaoru, why did you leave me?”

Tadashi opened the door. “Your chamomile, Master.”

“Thank you. Sit down. You don’t have any children yet, do you?”

“No, Master.”

“Children are a pain, Tadashi. They never turn out as you think they will.”

Tadashi smiled. “Is Master saying I shouldn’t have any?”

“That is up to you. I’m just saying they are troublesome. But how delightful they are when they are young,” he smiled. The first time he saw his son, he fell in love. He hadn’t grown out of it since.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Feilong had rid himself of his weird presumptions about what Oriya did, Oriya found that his original assessment of the man held true. Feilong was kind and generous and accommodating, giving him space when he needed it, and being there when he wanted him. And the sex between them was good; only Muraki had managed to move him as much as Feilong. He sighed. 

Feilong pretended not to notice as he leaned back, settling on the corner sofa he’d bought just so they could lie next to each other, even though Oriya was comfortable sitting on the floor. Feilong fluffed the extra-large pillows that Oriya had bought on the second day of his Hong Kong visit. “So, what’s tonight’s film?” he asked as he settled down. 

“Three Outlaw Samurai.” 

“Then tomorrow we’ll watch The Magnificent Trio, and compare the two.”

“Great.” Oriya lied down next to him, hugging him by the waist as he put his head on Feilong’s thigh. 

Feilong smiled. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” he said and it was almost the truth. 

“You played tourist this morning, didn’t you? Where did you go?”

“To the Wetland Park.” He’d walked and walked, watching the birds living without thoughts for the future, and wondering how he could be like them. It had been a good walk. 

“Ah. Did you see many birds?”

“Yes. Ah, it’s starting.” 

Feilong grinned. “You like these films, don’t you?”

“Yes. These films were the first to teach me about honour.” Oriya sighed again. 

“And now?”

“What is honour? I don’t know anymore.” Perhaps that was why he had chosen that film; honour was only to one’s self instead of directed to family or law or to one’s superiors. 

“Honour is simple. Is doing what you can to protect what’s yours.”

“Hm.” He wished it were as simple as that. His hand covered Feilong’s groin and started stroking him softly over his clothes. 

“You’d rather have sex than talk to me?” Feilong laughed.

“Yes.”

“Fine by me.”

Oriya grinned. The film only held half his attention; the other half belonged to Feilong, and how good it felt touching him, feeling his warmth under his nape and under his palm, feeling his pulse with his fingers, feeling his scent change and deepen with arousal. Now that Oriya could touch Feilong as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted, did that make Feilong his lover? 

“Please, let me,” Feilong whispered suddenly, pushing Oriya’s hand away. Oriya frowned, and was about to protest when he saw Feilong unbutton his trousers. A moment later Feilong’s cock was free of its covers, beautiful, suffused with blood, pulsing, and Oriya reached for it again. “Yes, yes, thank you,” Feilong gasped as Oriya started stroking him in earnest, loving how silky hot and alive he was under his fingers. “I’m coming,” Feilong warned him moments later. 

Oriya grinned. “Good.”

Feilong let out a snort that changed into a deep groan as he started ejaculating. Oriya kept stroking until Feilong was spent. 

“Gods, I came all over your hair,” Feilong muttered.

Oriya shrugged. He lifted a few strands and wiped Feilong’s cock with it. 

Feilong groaned. 

“What? You said it was dirty already, it might as well be put to some use.” He winked at Feilong. 

Feilong leaned down and kissed him. You are weird in the best possible way. “You have no shame,” he said, smiling fondly. 

“Should I feel shame with you? Aren’t we lovers?” 

“Yes, we are,” Feilong replied and kissed him again. Have many seen this shameless side of you? Feilong’s thought had no jealousy, only curiosity. 

Ah, he didn’t deserve someone like Feilong. He was tainted and rotten and…. He sighed. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Feilong made a soft sound. If only your hair wasn’t so dirty; I’d totally caress you right now. 

Oriya sat up. “I think I need a shower, after all.”

“Should I stop the film?”

“No, I’ve seen it before, and what I can’t remember, you’ll remind me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Really, Feilong was too good for him. 

&*&*

The film was more than half-way through by the time Oriya had finished with the shower and drying his hair. Feilong smirked when Oriya slid down next to him and resumed his earlier position. “You took your time,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” Oriya pulled a strand of hair up and inspected it. No split-ends, but he should get it trimmed. “I should cut it, perhaps. It takes longer and longer to take care of it.”

“No, don’t.”

Oriya looked at him. “You prefer it long too?”

Who else liked it long? A family member or a lover? Feilong was curious but it didn’t show. He took hold of his braid and let it fall over Oriya’s neck. “I keep mine long because my father had asked me to when I was little. Now that he’s gone, this is a reminder of our bond.”

“Ah.” Oriya took the braid and started untying it carefully. It was soothing playing with Feilong’s hair and so delightful too. It was heavy and thick and so utterly black that it shone blue when the light hit it the right way. Oriya couldn’t get enough of it, of touching it, of feeling it, of seeing it. “I started growing mine because I was a terrible delinquent at school and that’s what delinquents do,” he grinned. 

“And then?”

Oriya pointed at the screen. “Samurai in films have long hair. And also…” Oriya looked at him. “My friends like it long. If you like it long too, then I will keep it so.”

“Yes, I would like that.” 

“Alright, then.” Oriya stopped playing with Feilong’s hair and turned his attention to the film. 

Feilong started petting Oriya’s hair. This must be like having a pet. A big, warm, cuddly pet with a thick, soft fur. Oriya tried not to smile at Feilong’s thought; he couldn’t decide if he enjoyed being compared to a pet or not. 

On screen Oine was trying to stop Sakura from leaving. Oriya froze; her struggle reminded him of how he’d tried to stop Muraki from leaving at the Sagano Shrine. Sakura’s request for Oine to be happy also reminded him of Muraki’s parting words at that time. 

And, unlike what Oine probably did after that scene, instead of living well, he held on to this stupid love, and his even more pathetic love for Ukyou. And, when Muraki came back from the dead, how overjoyed he was. How easily he let Muraki take him when Muraki came to find him in Hong Kong.

Even a poor, lovelorn woman was better than him. He hugged Feilong. 

Feilong smiled again. 

On screen Sakura was rushing back to his companions after having left the woman he loved behind. He’d discarded her exactly as Muraki had discarded him, and yet, he’d go back to Muraki every time Muraki asked him. How fucking sad. “I told you Muraki is my best friend, right?” Oriya whispered.

“Yes,” Feilong said carefully.

“Sometimes, he’s more than that,” Oriya continued in the same soft tone. 

“Ah.” 

“He’s…” Oriya sighed, turned and looked at Feilong. He traced Feilong’s frown with his fingertips. “I want you, but he still has a hold on me. Forgive me.”

Feilong sighed. So much for uncomplicated. I have to choose between having a part of you and not having you at all? Better a part, then, until I find someone better. “You’re thinking too much,” Feilong said instead. “What you do when you are not with me is of no concern to me. I’m interested in what you do when you are with me.” 

Oriya blinked. “Ah.” 

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t mind, then?” 

Feilong looked at him annoyed. “I just said so, didn’t I?” His pride wouldn’t let him admit that he minded. 

Oriya smiled at him. “Thank you.” He sat up, pushed Feilong down and started kissing him, feeling guilty for being so stuck in the past he could not move on, and for dragging Feilong with him. 

So much for uncomplicated, Feilong thought again. “There’s someone else for me as well. I lied to you in Kyoto. I met a young man some time ago.” Feilong pushed him away. “I could trust him, and he could have wanted me for who I was, not for my money or my power.”

“But?”

“He’s with someone else.”

The image of Asami’s Takaba flashed through Feilong’s mind. “Ah,” Oriya said softly. “So…”

“The way you love Muraki, I love him. I lied to you about this in Kyoto as well. Loving you. I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. I knew it.”

Feilong let out a soft laughter. “We’re quite a pair.”

“Yes. Should we still be a pair?”

Feilong shrugged. “Can I be rude?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the only person to have made me come without touching my dick. For that alone I want you.”

Oriya grinned. “Good to know I can be of some use. I want someone,” he said seriously. No, he needed someone. What did he have but his dead cat? Love? He still thought that would come later. At some point. Maybe. “If you would have me, I would have you.”

Feilong offered him his hand. “Deal.” He smiled after the handshake. “Can you go back to what you were doing earlier? And then, we can watch the end of the film.”


	3. Chapter 3

Asami did not like being blindfolded. He did not like being dragged around by the hand like a child. He did not like anything about the situation. But… it was Akihito who’d tied the strip of fabric around his eyes. Akihito who’d taken his hand gently but with certainty. Akihito who’d asked him so nicely to play along. Akihito who led him to the car with a sweet smile, and then gave him an even sweeter kiss when Asami got in. So, what other choice did he have but submit to Akihito’s wishes?

A carpet smothered the sound of his footsteps as they walked, and then there was the sound of elevator doors opening. 

Akihito pushed him inside with a chuckle. “Almost there.”

Asami snorted. He knew he would enjoy Akihito’s surprise, but he could do without the commentary. Then again, Akihito wouldn’t have been Akihito if he’d been quiet.

“Nearly there. Any minute now.” The doors opened again with a faint whoosh. “A little more.”

Asami grinned. “Will you reward me for my patience when we get there?”

“Erm… that will have to wait a little longer.”

“Hm.”

A door opened softly in front of him. 

“You can remove the blindfold now, Akihito,” Feilong said. Asami could hear him grinning. 

“Was this your idea?” He blinked at the sudden flood of light. 

“It was mine,” Akihito said, taking his hand again. “I thought it would be nice if we all did something together.”

“Hm.” He glanced around. He could recognize an exclusive hotel suite when he saw it, and it made him feel glad. Feilong in a hotel was good; Feilong in a hotel meant he wasn’t planning on moving his operations here, the way he would eventually do, if he ever bought his own place in Japan. 

“Don’t look so glum, Asami,” Feilong grinned again. “You don’t look so pretty when you do that,” he said and made a face that was supposed to be what Asami looked like.

Asami glared at him. “Well, I’m here now. What were you thinking of doing?” 

“Watch a film,” Feilong said as he opened another door and led them to the suite’s living room. “Oriya and I have movie afternoons every other day, so Akihito thought that we could have one together.”

There were three two-seater sofas around a large table in the middle of the room. Asami sat on the one directly opposite the large screen. “Okay. And what will we be watching?” 

“Zatoichi meets the One-Armed Swordsman.”

“One of the best films of the series,” Asami said approvingly. 

Akihito rolled his eyes upwards as he settled next to Asami. He was so warm, and Asami pulled him closer, wanting more of his heat. “Did Oriya choose it? It seems like something he would watch.”

Feilong gave them a smile. 

“Where is your...” Asami bit back the adjective he wanted to use. Feilong wouldn’t appreciate it if someone called his boyfriend ‘crazy’ even if that were the truth. “Your other half?” 

“Getting more snacks.” Feilong shook his head, looking resigned. 

“Oriya-sama eats a lot,” Tao said as he walked into the room carrying a tray with a teapot and four cups. 

“He does,” Feilong sighed. 

The door slammed at that moment. “I’m back,” Oriya shouted from the entrance.

“And he’s loud,” Feilong whispered, looking like he wanted to apologize but was too proud to do so. 

Asami smirked. Tao tried to hide his smile, pretending to focus on where on the table he would leave the tray.

“Oriya,” Akihito shouted as the door to the living room opened. He bounced up. 

Asami met Feilong’s gaze. “He’s loud too,” he mouthed, nodding towards Akihito, and Feilong smiled. 

“You’re all here,” Oriya grinned, dropping one of the bags he had in his hands. “Oops.” 

Tao rushed to him, picking it up. “May I?”

“Of course, Tao.” Oriya gave him the bags and met Akihito half-way. They hugged for a moment. “So good to see you again. You look nice.”

“It’s great seeing you again,” Akihito said at the same time as Oriya. “You look well.”

“Heh, thanks.” He searched inside his sleeves. “Souvenir gift.” He pressed a small box in Akihito’s hands and then threw another at Asami. 

Asami caught it mid-air. “What the…?” He put it aside and watched as Tao went back to what had to be the suite’s kitchen area. 

Akihito followed Tao with his eyes as well. “Tao will not be joining us?”

Feilong shook his head. 

“Shame,” Akihito said as he took his place next to Asami. 

“It’s a pretty violent film. I don’t think it’s good for someone his age to watch it,” Feilong said.

Asami snorted. 

Oriya smiled. “Does it matter?” he said, and he sounded annoyed. He threw a pillow on the floor next to Feilong and sat by his feet. “Western-style furniture are bad for my back,” he explained, when he realized Akihito was staring at him.

Asami barely managed to hold himself back from rolling his eyes upwards. 

Akihito didn’t. “Really? Is that so?”

“Yes. Why does that seem so strange to you?”

“Oh, no reason,” Akihito said, hiding his grin behind a bag of wasabi peas. “Hm, look at the ingredients at that,” he said unconvincingly. 

“Maybe we should watch the film,” Feilong said testily.

Asami looked away so as not to laugh. Did Feilong have problems reading the Japanese subtitles? Or did he miss hearing his language so much, that he was satisfied with hearing it in the film?

Ten minutes into the film Asami leaned over and tapped Oriya on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Use the bedroom,” Feilong growled. 

He probably missed hearing Chinese, Asami decided. 

Oriya grinned as he unfolded himself. “He’s a huge fan of Jimmy Wang,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not,” Feilong protested. “You’re the one who likes him. I like _wuxia_ films in general.”

“So you say,” Oriya laughed. 

Asami smiled at their exchange. He waited until they were in the bedroom, a boringly elegant room with no hints of its current occupants. Not even the slippers were out of place. “I wanted to tell you two things. The first is, Feilong is my friend. If you hurt him…”

Oriya cut him off, grinning. “Shouldn’t you have told me that earlier?”

“I didn’t think your relationship would last that long.”

“That hurt,” Oriya said, mockingly bringing his hands over his heart. He sat on the bed and stared at him, looking like he wanted to say something for a moment. “And what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?” he asked, and Asami knew that discussion was over. Still, if Oriya hurt Feilong, he’d have to deal with him. 

“Someone close to me, someone important, is trying to arrange a meeting with your father, but he’s proving a very difficult man to find. Can you do anything about that?”

Oriya’s expression changed from vaguely bored to annoyed. “What am I? His secretary?”

“No, but his secretary has also proven a difficult man to find.”

Oriya snorted and looked out of the window. “Fine,” he said after a few minutes. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe if you told me who is looking for him and why?”

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t betray Watanabe-san’s trust, even when he didn’t approve of what Watanabe-san wanted of Mibu senior.

Oriya grimaced in disgust. “Whatever,” Oriya said a moment later. “You’ll owe me for this, you know that.”

Asami nodded with a faint smile. 

“Good, then we can go back.” Oriya stood up with a sudden, broad smile. “I do like this film a lot. Did you know that there’s supposed to be an alternate ending with Wang winning the fight?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Oh, how I would love to see that.”

Asami smiled at the man’s excitement. He started opening the door when Oriya suddenly stopped him, a finger raised on his lips. 

Asami frowned. What the… His frown deepened as he heard Akihito’s soft voice. 

“I see. And, are you happy?” Akihito asked Feilong gently.

Asami knew that tone; it was comforting and honest, intimate even. It was strange hearing it directed at Feilong, even though he knew the two had become friends. 

Feilong snorted after a few minutes. “I’m second-best and I know it. But so is he, so… that’s ok, I guess.”

“That’s not ok,” Akihito protested. His voice rose.

“Shush,” Feilong hissed. “God, you’re loud,” he laughed. “Are you that loud in bed with Asami? You never were that loud with me,” Feilong said in a differently intimate tone. 

“Feilong,” Akihito grumbled. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Feilong laughed again. 

“You should be asking your boyfriend such things.”

“I do, but…” 

Asami started turning to look at Oriya when the man pushed him into the living room. “I have to wash my hair,” he declared, shutting the bedroom door behind him loudly. 

Feilong turned towards Asami. His gaze was focused behind Asami, though, on that plain, black door. “Shit.”

Asami smirked. 

Akihito touched Feilong on the arm. “If you both feel like you’re second-best in your relationship, maybe you should break it up. That’s not fair to either of you.”

“But it’s easy to be with someone who is in the same boat as me,” Feilong said quietly. “It’s almost comforting.”

Akihito sighed. His gaze was gentler than his touch, Asami felt. “It’s not right, and you know it.”

Asami nodded. He pulled Akihito up. “I agree with Takaba. You should break it up now, before you grow too comfortable in something that doesn’t really satisfy you.” 

Feilong glared at him. “Easy for you to say that.”

Asami bit his lips for a moment. It would be easy to respond to Feilong’s petulance with anger. Instead he grinned. “At least you don’t have children to hurt with your selfish behavior. Wait, doesn’t Oriya have a cat?” And, of course, there was Tao, but Asami wouldn’t go there. 

Feilong blinked. “Oh, shut up,” Feilong suddenly snorted, half-laughing.

Akihito hit him on the arm. “It’s not funny.”

“Actually, it is,” Feilong said, still grinning. He stood up. “You’re welcome to stay and see the rest of the film. I need to … wash my hair or something.”

Asami shook his head. “I think we’ll go have an early dinner. What do you think, Takaba?”

Akihito turned towards him. “Kou told me about this place that makes the best burgers in Tokyo. I’ve wanted to try them for a while.”

“Burgers it is,” Asami smiled. Ah, when had he started doing whatever pleased Takaba? The answer was simple. When he realized that the smile Akihito turned towards him made his heart beat faster.

Even though he was so focused on Akihito he didn’t miss the longing that flashed in Feilong’s eyes for a moment. It was similar to what he thought he saw in Oriya’s expression half a second before Oriya pushed him out of the bedroom. “Maybe you should wash your boyfriend’s hair,” he said seriously. Those two needed to get their act together –preferably together. 

“You should do whatever will make you happy, Feilong,” Akihito suggested softly. 

As long as it didn’t involve making more passes at Akihito, Asami wanted to say, but stayed quiet. He did trust Akihito, after all; no need to antagonize Feilong for something Feilong would never have. 

Feilong studied Akihito. “I should, shouldn’t I?” he said, looking amused. 

“Yes, you should,” Akihito nodded, hugging him for a second. Then he hugged Asami. “Can I blindfold you on the way to the restaurant?”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“Because.”

“Why not? It was fun, wasn’t it?”

Asami let Akihito ask him over and over why he couldn’t use the blindfold on him again as they went towards the car. How could he tell him that the real reason was that he was far too amused by listening to Akihito tell him how much he had liked their little game?


	4. Chapter 4

The door to their bedroom was locked. Feilong glared at it. “You asshole,” he shouted. “It’s okay for you to love Muraki, but not for me to love Akihito?” And Asami too, if he were really honest with himself. 

There was a soft click. The door opened widely after that. Oriya glared at him, two suitcases next to him. 

Feilong recognized the one to his left as his. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I can’t decide if I want to leave or kick you out.”

Feilong frowned. “Yes, I can understand that.” Oriya had made the hotel arrangements, after all. He approached Oriya warily and picked up his suitcase. “I’ll spare you the trouble of deciding, then.” He could go stay with Asami and Akihito. He smirked imagining Asami’s annoyance when he showed up at his doorstep. 

Oriya glared at him. 

Feilong turned his back on him. Seeing the film still playing on the screen he stopped. “I didn’t think you were such a hypocrite, though.”

“Me? I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Or you wouldn’t mind me admitting that I love someone else.”

“That’s not what I mind.”

“Really? What is it, then?” He turned around again, glaring at Oriya. 

“That you could say it out loud.” Oriya sat on the bed, and started playing with his hair, not looking at him. 

“Excuse me?” 

Oriya studied the ends of his hair. 

Feilong sat down with a sigh. “It’s okay to feel how I feel, but not to say it in front of strangers? Is that it? That’s hypocritical.” 

“No, that’s not it,” Oriya finally said. “It’s…” He suddenly looked at Feilong. “When you said it, it sounded like you didn’t want things to change. That you were happy with our current situation.”

“And you are not?” Feilong frowned.

Oriya shook his head. 

If Akihito had taught him anything was that he had to be open and honest with himself – and with others too. “I find it difficult to change things when I know I can’t compete with your loves.”

“But they are them, and you are you. There is no competition.”

“So you say, but when Ukyou called you last night you went to them immediately.”

“You said I could go.”

“What else could I say?”

“That you wanted me to stay with you.”

“And you would have, had I asked?”

Oriya looked away. 

Feilong snorted. “See? What choice did I have but let you go?” 

Oriya stood up, picking up his suitcase. “Maybe you should stay, then.”

“Excuse me?”

“The suite is yours for the next three nights. I have to go back home.”

“Fine. Asshole.”

Oriya slammed the door on his way out.


	5. Chapter 5

“Young Master?”

Oriya stopped playing. He looked up just as the door opened. “Auntie.”

She walked into his room and closed the door behind her. “I heard you were back, but I couldn’t believe it, so I had to see for myself. Weren’t you supposed to stay in Tokyo this week?”

“Yes, but… The Chinese interlude is over.”

Auntie looked pointedly at the guzheng in front of him. 

Oriya smiled. Perhaps something of the Chinese interlude still appealed to him. 

Auntie sat down and started making tea. “What were you playing?”

“Night rain on the plantain leaves.”

“It sounded miserable.” 

He smirked. “A character in a story found it so sad he couldn’t stand listening to it.” 

“Ah.” She looked at the garden for a moment. “I hope you will not be playing that for our esteemed customers.”

“No, don’t worry.” They wouldn’t appreciate it if he did, anyway. 

“I think Chinese music is too flowery and overly complicated, but if you like it, that is fine.”

Oriya had nothing to say to that. Was Auntie really talking about music? 

She offered him a cup. “In fact,” she continued, and there was a gleam in her eyes that Oriya didn’t like at all, “I think it is good for you.”

Oriya took a sip. It was exactly as he liked it; strong and full of flavour. “Thank you,” he said, pointing at the cup. “I think you are right, though. Chinese music is complicated. I may like it, but… I don’t know if it worth the effort trying to master it.” He shifted away from the guzheng and plucked a string of the koto next to him. “Japanese music is… not simpler, but…” Not deeper in sentiment, not less complicated, but… “It’s more solemn.” 

“And safe.” Auntie took a sip of her tea. “Oriya, what happened?”

Oriya shuddered. They were going to discuss his mess of a love life, after all. “There are too many ghosts between us. His and mine. That’s what happened.”

“I’ve never known you to be afraid of ghosts,” Auntie smiled. 

“Ordinary ghosts, no. But those of lingering desires?” He sighed. “He’s still in love with someone else, and I,” he smiled a little, “I’m not in love with him either.”

Auntie narrowed her eyes. Her thoughts were suddenly so loud, because her emotions were too intense. She felt so sad for him, knowing that neither Muraki nor Ukyou would ever love him back the way he loved them. “But you care for him, don’t you?” she asked, trying to be kind. 

“Of course I do.” Oriya leaned back and stared at the ceiling. If he were to take in his bed someone only because they were convenient, he would have slept with several of his customers already. They too were warm and passionate and would let him do whatever he wanted in the day, just like Feilong, but he didn’t like them the way he liked Feilong.

“Then why can’t you lay your ghosts to rest and then fight his?” Auntie grinned. “If you were dealing with real ghosts you would have dispersed them the moment you saw them.” She laughed. “You’re such a heartless menace when it comes to those poor souls wandering at night.”

Oriya laughed. How true that was. He felt sorry for them, but at the same time, he hated how they bothered him. Auntie couldn’t feel their clammy hands on her skin, their clinging fingers digging into her flesh, their wants and their desires as hard as rocks hitting him whenever he encountered them. No, ghosts were sad, but bothersome creatures. 

But so was his love for Muraki and Ukyou. Sad, bothersome, destined to be unfulfilled, leaving him existing in his garden like a barren tree.

Auntie touched his arm. 

“I ought to get married,” he said to her. If only he could stand sleeping with someone he didn’t love. Just the thought of sharing his bed with someone for the sake of gaining something, even if that was a child, made him feel more of a whore than the women working for him. 

“But…”

“Do you think Father will mind if I adopt a child?” He had been thinking more and more about it. It seemed less distasteful than having a child with someone he didn’t know. 

“I don’t know.” Her eyes were kind. “Does that mean that you will abandon other pursuits?”

Oriya sighed. Did it? He felt that with Feilong he had the potential to love again. But Feilong clearly did not feel that way. His admission to Akihito meant that he was happy as things were between them, with the ghosts of their one-sided loves sharing their space. 

“The young gentleman was good for the Young Master.”

“I doubt he would take me back, the way we parted.” He snorted. Feilong’s expression when Oriya walked out of their suite was priceless, so full of disbelief that for a moment Oriya had wanted to hug him. Instead he closed the door on Feilong’s face and started his journey home.

“That is a shame.” Auntie stood up, taking the empty teapot and cups with her. “I think you ought to talk to your Father about your idea to adopt a child.” She winked at him as she left the room. “And reconsider your decision. I have heard that the young gentleman is still in Tokyo, planning to go to a concert tonight. I think Schubert?”

As if she didn’t know. She had made the reservations for him. Oriya narrowed his eyes. “Auntie…”

“Or you could surprise him at home. He flies back tomorrow morning, so if you take either the six or the eight o’clock flight you can be there before him and prepare what you want to say to him.”

“I couldn’t….”

Auntie shook her head as she closed the door. 

Oriya fell back on the floor, closing his eyes. What should he do? 

When he opened his eyes again, there were sakura petals all around him and Muraki was staring down at him. “This is not like you, my friend,” he said, smiling gently. 

Oriya blinked. No, Muraki was still there. 

“You must have been deep in thought to not realise I was here,” Muraki continued as he sat down next to Oriya, picking up the petals one by one with his right hand and gathering them in his palm. “What managed to hold your attention?”

“The usual. Life, love, death.”

Muraki smirked. “The usual, indeed.” He let the petals fall over Oriya’s face. As Oriya lifted his hand to push them away, Muraki grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “I’m not what you need,” he whispered in Oriya’s ear as he hugged him. “Go.”

Oriya opened his eyes again. There were no petals nor Muraki, and he was still lying on the floor. He slowly stood up. If the House itself told him to go, what choice did he have?

&*&*

Feilong raised an eyebrow when he saw him. He looked back, as if he was gauging the quickest way to the exit. A moment later, Feilong took a deep breath and took his seat next to Oriya, careful not to touch him. Once seated, he stared at the stage. 

This only gave Oriya a chance to study Feilong’s profile. The straight nose, the full lips, the proud chin. The mouth downturned in annoyance and the eyes focused stonily ahead. The man was beautiful and elegant and determined. And he would slip away from him if Oriya didn’t open his bloody mouth. Soon. 

“To me you’re not second-best,” he said quietly. 

Feilong kept still, but he made a tiny huff and the corner of his mouth moved a little upwards for a second. 

“It’s okay if that is what you feel for me, but don’t think that this is what I feel for you.”

Feilong elbowed him. “Then why did you walk out on me yesterday?” he hissed, still looking at the stage. 

“Because I felt that you didn’t want to change things between us. I was wrong, though. I should have asked you.”

Feilong turned towards him. “Ask me what?”

“Do you want things to stay as they are?”

“You mean?”

“Right now we’re almost friends with benefits. Or, more like wounded dogs licking each other’s wounds.”

Feilong snorted. “That’s an ugly image.”

Oriya grinned. “It is, isn’t it?”

Feilong smiled. The lights started dimming as he opened his mouth. “The concert is about to start.”

“But,” Oriya whispered. 

“I’ll give you my answer afterwards.”

Oriya sighed and settled back in his seat. He could think of worse ways to pass the time while waiting for Feilong’s reply. The music was soothing with a hint of playfulness and just a touch of nineteenth century drama. Soon he found himself sinking into it. 

With his eyes closed he could visualize the score better. The notes danced across the sheet, and he could feel their movement as the pianist played. There was still something very classical in the way the piece was structured, but oh, how the music would break free every now and then and twirl in romantic waves. 

It made him feel wrapped in something warm and comforting. In fact, the music felt so good that he started wanting a smoke. And Feilong. He started tapping the notes against his thigh with his right hand in order to distract himself. He wanted to reach for Feilong’s hand so badly. To wrap his fingers against his and hold on for a while. To feel the music of Feilong’s heartbeat and replicate it with his own. 

Understanding made him gasp and open his eyes. Feilong was staring at him, but when he saw him move, he looked towards the stage. 

“Fuck,” Oriya whispered. Fuck. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to keep his distance and protect himself that he hadn’t realized that he wanted, no, he needed Feilong. The way he still needed Muraki, the way he still wanted Ukyou. 

In love he wasn’t, but he loved. When had that happened?

He closed his eyes again, trying to follow the music, but it was pointless. All he wanted was Feilong and his desire for him was greater than his desire for music. What if Feilong rejected him? 

For a moment he was tempted to listen to Feilong’s thoughts but just for a moment. Anticipation and anxiety only fueled his longing, and it had been so long since he’d experienced this feeling, Oriya found himself wanting to savour it. Even when it made the insides of his stomach churn and his hands feel cold. 

The moment the lights returned to normal Oriya jumped up. “I need a smoke. Join me?”

Feilong stared at him. “Yes,” he said finally, slowly, as he stood up. 

Oriya had never used the word ‘excuse me’ so frequently in his life as on his way out to the smoking area. He felt turned on, confused, excited, anxious, and since he couldn’t drag Feilong back to the hotel and make love to him (assuming that Feilong would be willing, of course), he hoped that smoking would calm him down a little. 

When he was finally – finally – there, he took out his pipe and started filling it with quick motions. The scent of the tobacco helped relax him marginally, and the first puff made him feel euphoric. 

“Not only you are the only person in a kimono, you are the only one smoking a pipe,” Feilong grinned. He took out his pipe. “Well, not anymore.”

Oriya grinned. “Want some of my blend?”

“No, thank you. Yours is too sweet for my liking.” Feilong leaned close to him. “Not that I mind tasting it in your kiss,” he whispered.

“Ah.” Oriya took another puff. “Does that mean…?” He asked just as quietly and let Feilong see how much he hoped it meant Feilong still wanted him. 

“Friends with benefits sounds good to me for now. For later, we’ll see,” Feilong said, giving him the tiniest of smiles and looking at him seductively from under his long, long eyelashes.

Oriya nodded, feeling this sudden pain in the middle of his chest. He tried to fight it with another puff of smoke. He just got himself in yet another unequal relationship, didn’t he? Letting himself be used by the one he loved again. And he didn’t care, as long as he could offer his love. What a sad fuck he was. He smiled at Feilong. “Sounds good to me.”

Feilong smiled back. 

Yes, Oriya didn’t regret it. He so loved seeing Feilong’s pleased smile. Would Feilong let him paint him someday? How he would like that.


	6. Chapter 6

Feilong lifted his head from the menu the moment he saw Akihito enter the shop. Akihito waved at him, as if they were not in a quiet, exclusive café, but rather in a place full of poor students. The waitress guiding Akihito didn’t bat an eye at his behavior, though. That’s what Feilong liked about Japan – everyone pretended to be so polite all the time. 

“How are things?” Akihito asked as he sat down.

Feilong would always love Akihito, but since Akihito was reluctant to love him back, he’d have to make do with the _other_ Japanese and enjoy whatever time he could have with Akihito. He grinned, wondering if he would manage to ever make Akihito jealous with his stories. Probably not; the young man was madly in love with Asami – still. “Things are going well.”

“I was surprised when you called me to have tea. I thought you would have left by now.”

Feilong gave him a tiny smile. 

“Do tell,” Akihito grinned.

The waitress stepped near them, and Feilong dismissed her with a smile. “We need a few more minutes.”

Akihito blushed. “I should check the menu first, before asking what makes you glow like that.”

“Glow? What were you reading this morning?”

“Well,” and Akihito’s blush deepened, “you do look very well this morning. You look… happy.”

“I’m always happy when you’re near me,” Feilong smiled. “But, I have another reason to be happy today,” he added quickly, before Akihito could protest that Feilong should stop   
trying to seduce him. 

“You do?” 

“Yes, and I’ll tell you right after we order,” he continued, seeing that the waitress was coming towards them. “We’ll have the afternoon tea,” he said, closing Akihito’s menu. 

Akihito smiled, and Feilong was glad to see that it was with fondness rather than annoyance. “I swear, you are as bad as Asami sometimes,” he said, shaking his head. “So?”

“You were right, you know. I was going to go back home this morning.”

“But?”

“He came back.” Feilong smiled. 

Akihito frowned. “Is that wise? Feilong, I care about you, and I don’t want to see you hurt. I want to see you happy, with someone who deserves you.”

Feilong studied Akihito. He sounded honest, he looked concerned, and if only he loved him, then Feilong would be really happy. He smiled. If he were honest with himself, he’d add Asami’s name next to Akihito’s. “I am as happy as can be,” he shrugged. “And… he’s interesting. Although his sense of humour is highly inappropriate.”

Akihito made a soft, inquisitive noise. 

“We watched _Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan_ yesterday evening. He pretended to take notes at the sex scenes.” He stopped himself before telling Akihito that Oriya’s notes were for things that he could use to kill his perverted clients (like ‘the Four Winds’ – he did look amused and impressed by that). Did Akihito even know what Oriya’s real profession was? He had no idea. 

“That sounds fun.”

“And then he showed me the Forty-Eight positions.” In his tablet, after a brief search online, rather than in person, but Akihito did not need to know that.

“The what?”

“Don’t you know your own heritage? Ah, young people today.” Feilong sighed, pretending to be dismayed.

Akihito looked around, obviously trying to find something to hit him. 

“They’re sex positions inspired by sumo wrestling and they’re not really forty-eight,” Feilong continued. And they had names as imaginative as Chinese sexual positions, even though he couldn’t remember which name corresponded to what position. 

“Ha, so we have our own version of the Kama Sutra,” Akihito laughed. “Maybe I should investigate the topic further.”

“Maybe you should.”

“So, he’s not just wearing kimono from the 18th century, he also reads books from then?”

“As said, interesting,” Feilong smiled. He suspected that Oriya knew as many tales and seductive lies as Scheherazade. If they managed to stay together for three years, would he fall in love with him the way Shahryār fell in love with his consort? 

“At least he makes you smile,” Akihito suddenly said. His expression softened. “Asami makes me smile,” he said quietly. “Not so much in public, which pisses me off, but in private?” Akihito’s smile was brilliant. 

Feiong kept smiling. He would never make Akihito jealous, while Akihito managed to make him jealous with just a smile. He looked down, and saw that he had a new message. “Sorry, I have to check this.” Perhaps it was work. Anything to distract him from how he was far from getting over Akihito yet.

Instead of a text he saw the picture of the film poster for Sentimental Swordsman and a series of question marks. He smiled and texted ‘yes’. A moment later he received another picture, this time of white and yellow camellias. 

“What is that?”

Feilong did a small search. “Waiting with longing,” he snorted, feeling suddenly warm inside and strangely reluctant to share that with Akihito. “Flower language.”

“Why can’t he use emoticons like the rest of the world?”

“They hadn’t been invented in the 18th century.”

“Interesting, indeed,” Akihito laughed. “So, he makes you smile and learn new things. That’s good for you.”

Feilong nodded. Should he reply? He put the phone down, and smiled at the waitress who was coming with their tea. “So, how about you? Anything new?”

As Akihito talked about how he’d taken pictures of some yakuza the other night and Asami had to rescue him, Feilong smiled. How animated Akihito became, how expressive he was, how much in love with Asami. 

Perhaps he should make Oriya demonstrate all forty-eight positions after the film and use him as his model. After all, sex was the best method he knew for forgetting his troubles and falling fast asleep and, for someone who claimed to not have had sex in a while, Oriya was surprisingly good at it. 

Who knew, in three years Feilong might even love him a little for himself, not just for what he could offer.


	7. Chapter 7

Asami smiled at Oriya. “What can I do for you?”

“For me? Nothing, right now. I came to give you a message. My Ma… Father will see you and your friend in two days, if you still want to meet him.”

“Of course I do. Thank you.”

Oriya snorted. He glanced at the mini-bar and shook his head minutely. “He likes Japanese whisky. Make sure you have some.”

“He will not find my hospitality lacking.”

“Good.”

Oriya kept staring at him. “Let’s go for a walk,” he suddenly said. 

“I’ll have Kirishima bring the car.”

“A walk.”

Asami stood up and looked outside. Like father, like son; both seemed to be equally difficult. “Let’s.” He smirked when Oriya turned around and let him out of his own office, and, since the man wouldn’t speak, he also stayed quiet until they were down. 

The noise from the traffic was quite annoying. Perhaps that was exactly why Oriya wanted them to take a walk. They wouldn’t be able to hear each other speak. Kirishima was walking a couple of steps behind him and he nodded at him. 

“Ma… Father might want to mix business with pleasure,” Oriya told him suddenly some five minutes later. 

He smirked. Was that such a big secret? “I’ll have someone ready for him.”

“And keep Akihito away from Club Sion that day.”

Asami couldn’t help but let out a small huff. “If I try to keep him away, then he will be curious and manage to get in. It’s best to leave him alone. If he shows up at the Club, I’ll deal with him.”

Oriya shrugged. “Akihito has a certain… quality that makes him quite desirable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Asami stopped. Was Oriya also interested in Akihito? It was bad enough that Feilong still panted after him like a dog. 

“The ways of the heart are mysterious,” Oriya continued. 

“Takaba is mine,” he growled. 

Oriya laughed. “I know, I know. I’m curious to know,” he looked away, looking very embarrassed, “how do you deal with Feilong’s attraction to him?”

“I ignore it. Takaba is mine.”

“Ma… Father might also find him desirable,” he said very quietly, that for a moment Asami thought he’d imagined him speak. “He asked about him.”

“What?”

“He requested him to be there,” Oriya continued, looking at some point past Asami. One of the coffee shops at the other side of the street, perhaps. “Your Takaba is famous,” he said even more softly. 

Didn’t people have something better to do than speculate about Takaba and Asami’s love life? 

Oriya suddenly turned towards a street to the right. “A florist shop. How wonderful. I meant to buy some flowers.”

Asami followed him. “I hope you told your Father that Takaba is under my protection.”

“I did. That’s when he requested him.” Oriya went into the shop and started checking out the roses. “I like Akihito, that’s why I’m telling you to keep him away from Ma… him.”

Asami snorted. “Let me worry about it.” Not that there was anything to worry about. Takaba was his, and he would protect him. Besides, what could Mibu do? Kidnap Akihito the way Feilong had? 

Oriya glanced at him. Then he started playing with his phone. A moment later he smiled. “Can you please put these two together?” he asked the florist pointing at two camellias. “Yes, like that, thank you.” He snapped a picture. “I refuse to worry about anything that person does,” he told Asami as he continued playing with his phone. “I just thought it would be a good idea to let you know you might have yet another rival soon.” He grimaced. “I’ll have a red rose together with the two camellias,” he turned to the florist again. “A dozen is too… predictable, isn’t it?”

“I’m certain the lady would appreciate the number as well as the beauty of the flowers,” the florist said with a tiny frown that clearly expressed her disapproval at Oriya’s stinginess.

Oriya looked around. “You know… the lady… better than I do,” he told Asami. “Do you think Fei would prefer a small or a large bouquet?”

Asami smirked. “A large one. Fei is fond of opulence.” 

“Ah. In that case… I’ll have all the red roses and all the white and yellow camellias.”

“From one extreme to the other, Oriya?”

“Yes. And when you finish arranging them, can you send them here?” He scribbled the name and address of the hotel. “As soon as possible, please? I would like to surprise Fei.”

“The lady is lucky,” the florist said with stars in her eyes. 

Oriya shook his head. “No, I’m the lucky one.”

Asami chuckled. He’d definitely tell this whole story to Akihito later. Maybe even to Feilong as well. “Perhaps I should get something for Takaba.”

“Maybe zinnias, or carnations. Daisies too might be good.”

The florist nodded. “Yes, I agree.”

“Takaba won’t understand why I’m giving him any of these.” Asami didn’t understand why Oriya suggested these either, although the florist did. 

“They all signify loyalty and love,” the florist explained. “They are perfect for people in committed relationships. Much more subtle than roses.” She grinned. “Besides, ladies like stability and safety. What better way to tell your fiancée that you will take care of her than to give her zinnias?” 

“Yes, Takaba will appreciate that,” Oriya said with a grin, looking far too amused. 

“You know what Takaba will appreciate more? A holiday. I think I’ll let your Father meet Wa… my friend in two days, while I take Tabaka to an onsen. Perhaps at Beppu?”

Oriya smiled. He looked relieved. “Yes, thank you. That would be an excellent idea. I am certain Takaba will appreciate that.”

“I’ll get the carnations too. Can you make me a nice bouquet with twelve of them? You choose the colour.”

The florist nodded, looking like she was imagining Akihito’s expression when he received the flowers. Whatever she imagined would be wrong; Akihito was certain to surprise him. Asami smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Akihito’s reaction. “Flowers,” he smirked. 

“Yes,” Oriya smiled softly. “Much better these flowers than others,” he muttered, turning his eyes towards the carnations, expression grim for a moment. When he looked up he was smiling again. “Do you want to have lunch? I read about a very good ramen place nearby.”

Asami bit back a smile. That explained why Oriya wanted to discuss things outside his office. “Yes, why not? I haven’t had ramen in a while.”

“Me neither.”

Asami followed him outside. Yes, he’ take Akihito to a hot spring and they could enjoy themselves there while the two old perverts discussed things best left alone. He couldn’t wait to see Akihito’s reaction when he heard that. His eyes would probably shine. He would let him tie him down. Perhaps he should buy a new vibrator to celebrate the occasion. Or two. A normal and a bullet one?

Oriya took out his fan and started fanning himself. Asami frowned. It wasn’t that warm a day. Oh well… he was a strange man, Oriya. He smirked. The fan matched his kimono. Who did that in this day and age?

Now, Akihito – how would he feel about a vibrating cock ring?


	8. Chapter 8

Feilong returned to Hong Kong with a red rose instead of a bookmark pressed between the pages of the copy of the Tale of the Heike Oriya had given him. He read a little bit of it on the plane, but it was even more depressing a read than he remembered. He had found himself a broken thing, hadn’t he? 

Tao’s chatter was a much more pleasant company during the trip. He ought to give some serious consideration to Tao’s education, but at the same time, he loved Tao so much he was selfish. He didn’t want to let him out of his sight, and he wanted him to stay that sweet, loving child he was. 

Who knew how Tao would change when puberty hit him? How could he not want to keep him as a child a little longer? Especially when Tao talked of all the things he’d seen in Tokyo: the people, the shrines, the cosplayers. Which character was Oriya-sama cosplaying with such dedication? Tao hadn’t been able to figure it out. 

That comment alone would amuse Feilong for days to come. 

Two days after returning home Feilong found himself receiving a guzheng. This, more than Oriya’s promises and flowers, reassured Feilong. If that crazy person left his instruments here, then he would really work on their relationship. 

Feilong would have to work just as hard, then. He wouldn’t be the one to let go of what they had – whatever that was.


	9. Chapter 9

People had distinct energies that revealed their character, and when they touched something they left a residue. That was a fact. What was also a fact was that in all his life, Muraki had only met two people whose energies could be considered unique. 

Ukyou was the first. She burned bright gold and red. Steadfast and determined, if she were a different person she could have ruled the world. Instead, she’d dedicated herself to science and hid inside a lab. Whatever she touched, though, shone gold, as if something of hers could not be suppressed.

Oriya was the second. His flame was white and blue. Kind and patient, if he were a different person he’d have reached enlightenment already. Instead, he was rolling down in the mud with the rest of them. Whatever he touched shone white, though, as if he was trying to purify this dark world. 

Liu’s whole house shone white. Oriya had been there for some time for it to shine like that. He knew that already and wasn’t surprised; Oriya’s energy was stronger than that of others. Muraki’s hands were still covered in a white film from when he’d last made love to him, and that had been more than a month ago. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw Liu, surprised for the first time. Liu was covered in a white so brilliant it could only mean one thing.

“Dr Muraki,” Liu sighed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Muraki mentally shook himself. “I came to thank you for taking care of Oriya, and to apologise for breaking into your home.”

“By breaking into my home a second time,” Liu said coldly.

He grinned. 

“Fine, apology accepted. And you needn’t thank me.”

“Obviously not,” he muttered. Oriya had done plenty of thanking, as far as he could see. 

“Is there anything else you wanted?” 

“Actually, I do. A drink, for a start. Whisky, if you please.”

Liu glared at him as he went to the mini bar and poured him a glass. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He smelled it. “You have taste, Liu. I’ll give you that.” He took a sip. “Ah, excellent, indeed.”

Liu sat down, steepled his hands and stared at him. 

He took another sip. Where to start? It wasn’t like he begrudged Oriya. If his friend had found some happiness with Liu, then Muraki too was happy. Oriya had been clinging on to him and Ukyou for the longest time. It wasn’t good for him. But he didn’t want Liu to think he was jealous – or worse, say something that Liu would miscommunicate to Oriya, and then Oriya would think he was jealous. 

He didn’t want to antagonize Liu either. He knew that while he and Ukyou would always have a place in Oriya’s heart, Oriya’s heart was too big for two people. It wasn’t meant just for them. But would Liu understand that? Or would he think that Muraki was staking his claim? And if so, how would he react? Would he break things up with Oriya? Would he act possessive and make Oriya break up with him?

Having the ability to read thoughts would have been useful. Instead, he could only see Oriya’s energy painted over every surface on Liu’s home and every part of Liu’s body.

Liu suddenly sighed. “I think I know what you want to say to me.” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Liu smirked. “If someone dangerous and dashing had seduced Tao, I would want to have a talk with them. The way I think you want to have a talk with me.”

Dangerous and dashing? Is that how Liu saw himself? Muraki bit back a snort. He was as dangerous as a kitten compared to him. “I guess you are more dangerous than most people,” he conceded. “As for dashing, yes, I’d say you are.”

“So,” Liu said, “Will you say it, or will I have a go at it?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think I came here to tell you?” Muraki grinned. 

“Okay. You came to tell me that you and Oriya are lovers. I know you are. Judging by the fact that you’re still there, and I’m not dead, I also think that you came to tell me that if I hurt Oriya you’ll make me regret it.” Liu stared at him. “And I know it’s no idle threat. How am I doing so far?”

“Surprisingly well,” Muraki said with an appreciative smile. But then again, what did expect? Oriya would never be with someone stupid. He’d find the meanest, toughest, most cunning bastard of them all, and lure them in. He’d managed to make Muraki fall for him, after all. 

Liu smiled. “These things considered, I finally think that you came to give us your blessing. But you shouldn’t tell me that. You should be telling that to Oriya.”

“How… interesting. But you haven’t told me your part yet.” He grinned. “Are your intentions honourable?”

Liu’s smile was soft. “What do you think? Fine. I’ll do my part. I promise I will do what I can to keep him happy.”

Not ‘make’ but ‘keep’ – an interesting word choice that Muraki liked. 

“And if I hurt him…” Liu snorted. “I’m tempted to give you permission to make me regret it, but I suspect Oriya will do that first. He has a mean right hook.”

“And a kick. Don’t forget that.”

“I haven’t experienced that yet.”

“How about the pipe on the head?”

Liu nodded. “He should switch to cigarettes. Permanently.”

“I know, right?” Muraki leaned forward. “But you know what the worst is?”

“What?”

“When he knows all your sensitive spots and tickles you. Mercilessly. Don’t ever let him tickle you.”

“I’m not that ticklish.”

“Lucky you.”

Liu made a face. “But it’s when he does that, that…” He made a gesture like playing piano. 

Muraki sympathised. “Yes, that is horrible too. I’ll give you one tip. Hair.”

“Really?” 

Muraki nodded. “Yes.”

Liu smirked. “Noted. How about another drink? And maybe another tip?”


	10. Chapter 10

Oriya reached for the duck for the third time. He cut another small piece of skin and devoured it, moaning. 

“I can’t believe you.”

Still eating.“Mmm?”

“You wake up at six, you exercise for an hour every morning, you walk up and down like a man possessed, and yet you eat so many unhealthy things you’re going to have a heart-attack by the time you’re fifty.”

Oriya grinned at him. Then he reached for another piece of skin. “But it’s crunchy. And tasty. It’s the best part.” He offered the morsel to Feilong. 

Feilong shook his head. He preferred the meat to that piece of fat. 

“Your loss,” Oriya said as he ate that as well. He made another deep moan as he chewed. And another, closing his eyes and looking like he was getting aroused.

“When you do that,” Feilong said, “I want to….”

Oriya half-opened his eyes and smiled at him. “Who’s stopping you?” 

“But this is the dining room.”

“And we’re all alone.” 

“But…” One was not supposed to have sex in the dining room. Oriya reached for yet another piece. “You have no manners whatsoever. Why can’t you cut a whole piece and eat it, instead of stripping the duck inch by inch?”

Oriya laughed. “Because it tastes better when you cut it with your fingers.” He ate and moaned again.

Screw the rules. Feilong stood up in one swift motion, grabbed Oriya’s arm and threw him on the floor. Oriya made a soft sound as he fell and blinked at him. Feilong climbed on top of him. “How do you like that?”

“A lot,” Oriya grinned. He sat up. “I have greasy fingers,” he said. “Want to see how I can use them?”

Feilong swallowed and nodded, unbuttoning his trousers and lowering his zipper. He too was curious if it would feel different. It did feel slippery, but Feilong noticed more that Oriya’s fist was warm and tight, and his thumb was moving in a faster rhythm as Oriya stroked him. 

He leaned down and kissed him, tasting the salty, peppery sweetness of the duck. He could understand why Oriya liked it, but he preferred it like this, diluted with Oriya’s saliva, against the softness of his gums, the hardness of his teeth, the solid mass of his tongue. 

Oriya kept stroking until Feilong felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, body taut and arms open and there was this strong wind pushing him. It was all too much. Feilong bit Oriya’s lower lip, trying to hold on to something as he fell and fell and fell, and opened his eyes not on the ground, but in Oriya’s arms. 

Oriya blinked at him. Then he tapped him softly on the forehead with his finger. “Next time be more careful with your things,” he told him. 

Feilong sat up. Oriya’s lip was bruised and swollen, and when he touched it, his fingertip was stained red. Worse, there was a small trickle of blood on the floor. He raised Oriya’s head slightly, searching for the wound. Oriya made a small noise when he found it. Feilong made one too.

“I would have stopped you if I minded,” Oriya told him in a deep, husky voice, looking at him like he was ready to flip him over and fuck him. Instead, he lifted his hand, studied it for a moment and then licked one of his fingers. “I like this better than the duck,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Want a taste?”

Feilong shuddered. If this continued, Oriya would find himself flipped over and fucked. He shook his head. 

“More for me,” Oriya smiled happily, and proceeded to lick his fingers clean slowly, meticulously, suggestively. 

“Doesn’t your head hurt?”

“On a scale from one to ten it’s a two. So, no.” Oriya sat up again and kissed him. Feilong tasted himself, and Oriya, and duck. He suspected that he’d get a hard-on next time he ate a damned duck. 

“Perhaps it needs stitches. We should go to the hospital to get you checked out.”

“Call your doctor. Or call my doctor. Isn’t Muraki here again? What is he doing here all the time?” Oriya sighed. 

“You mind that he doesn’t visit you,” Feilong smiled. After all, Muraki and he met every other week for a game of chess and exchanging news. 

“Of course I do.” Oriya looked dejected. “He only visits when he needs me, and he doesn’t need me anymore.” The ‘not like I do’ was left unsaid. 

Feilong kissed him on the top of his head. “That’s what you think,” he said as he stood up, zipping up his trousers. 

“What do you mean?”

The door opened noiselessly and Feilong smiled and nodded at the doctor. “He’s all yours. For today,” he told him. 

Muraki nodded. “Thank you.”

Oriya looked at them, confused. 

Feilong closed the door. ‘Muraki,’ Oriya shouted behind it. ‘What are you doing?’ 

He smiled. He’d promised to keep Oriya happy, and if that meant sharing him, then so be it. Besides, he wouldn’t lose to Muraki. If Muraki was magnanimous when it came to Oriya, then Feilong would be doubly so and teach him what it mean to be generous. 

The living room door opened again. “Come here,” Muraki told him in an imperious voice.

“Muraki, be nicer,” Oriya yelled. 

Feilong turned around. Muraki was rolling his eyes upwards. Feilong decided to join them. 

“You came,” Oriya told him, sighing happily. He was still lying on the floor, but the plate with the duck was next to him. 

“Dr Muraki, don’t encourage him to eat unhealthy things.”

“It’s ok,” Muraki winked at him. “We’ll make sure he gets enough exercise to burn that fat. Please, close the door.”

Feilong did. 

Muraki sank to the floor next to Oriya, looked at him, and then they both turned to look at Feilong. “I’ve always wanted to be in the middle of a sandwich,” Muraki said.

Feilong smiled. He’d rather be the bread.


	11. Chapter 11

Oriya re-arranged the sunflowers. Took a step back, and looked at them. Yes, he was happy with how it all looked. The folding screen hid the portable stove, together with the bottles of pure spring water, the pot where he’d boil water, and the bowl for disposing water. The teapot was on the table, together with one bottle of water, the cups as well as the tea caddy. He frowned. Should he have used a more decorated container? But this looked nice against the chrysanthemum backdrop.

Now for the finishing touches. He lit the candles and waited for the scent of ylang-ylang and jasmine to start perfuming the room. He fluffed the pillows one more time, and started lighting the tea lights. Then he took another step back.

Yes, it looked over-the-top, luxurious, and inviting. Totally over-the-top. He was about to re-arrange everything, put out the candles and most of the lights, when he heard the door open. Too late. He sighed, and walked out the room. 

His smile froze when he saw Feilong. He looked cold, and dirty, and he smelled of death. His emotions were cold, distant, as if he had to separate himself from what he’d done. Oriya saw Tao come in and he gestured for him to go away. The boy obeyed. 

Then he smiled again, offering Feilong his hand. It was a good thing he’d already filled the tub, though he’d probably need to use lavender as well. Or maybe rose. He wanted to keep the vaguely romantic theme going, although with Feilong looking and feeling like that, he’d have to switch it to relaxing romantic, rather than wildly passionate romantic. “You need a bath,” he said quietly.

Feilong looked at him coldly, making Oriya smirk. Muraki had made him immune to such expressions. “You stink,” he continued. “You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

“I know that.”

“Good,” Oriya smiled and pushed Feilong to the bathroom.

Feilong suddenly chuckled. “What’s next? Tea?”

“In fact, yes.”

“Oh god,” Feilong laughed. “Fine, I’ll go have a bath. I was going to have one anyway. You don’t have to join me.” 

“No?” Oriya pouted, making Feilong laugh again. 

“No. But, can you make me that tea?”

Oriya nodded. He gave Feilong a small push and went back to the redecorated guest room. He left the door open and put a scoop of tea leaves into the small teapot. Then he poured a little bit of water, started humming, and started the timer just in case Feilong finished with his bath before the song did and distracted him. 

Which he did, he realized as he heard him. “You didn’t have a bath,” he said going out to meet him in the corridor.

“I felt like having a shower.” Feilong smiled. “The flowers were a nice touch, though. Maybe we can have a bath later?”

“Of course.” Oriya gestured for Feilong to come into the room he’d prepared. 

Feilong raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” he smirked. “Now you’re trying to seduce me with your interior design skills? You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to make a love nest,” Oriya whispered as he pushed him down on the sofa. “An old-fashioned one.”

“Yes, from the seventeenth century,” Feilong said, still smirking. 

Oriya ignored his taunts. Muraki had also taught him that; never give in to someone smelling of death. The timer rang and Oriya let him so he could pour the tea into the cup. He offered it to Feilong. “Here.”

Feilong stared at him. Then he smiled, relaxed and honest. “Thank you. This was a nice idea.” He leaned back, taking a deep breath. “Jasmine and… ylang-ylang? Soothing and passionate at the same time.” He finished the tea in one gulp. Then he frowned. “That was…. Good. Can I have some more?” 

“Of course.” He took the teapot and went behind the screen to heat the water. 

“I’d rather we didn’t make love tonight,” Feilong said quietly. “I may hurt you.”

Yes, Oriya thought so as well, and he’d rather not fight Feilong. He smiled. “Thank you for your consideration,” he said as he poured the water into the pot and came back, counting to a thousand inside his head. When he was done, he poured the tea into Feilong’s cup and offered it to him. 

“My take-over of a rival group ruined your plans for a romantic evening.” 

“Your schedule is more important than my…” he waved his hand around, “fantasy weaving. You were successful.” He sat by Feilong’s feet. 

“Of course.”

“Any casualties?”

“No. Though Huang was injured.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We can visit him in the hospital tomorrow, if you want.”

“Yes, that would be good.”

Feilong drank his tea. He closed his eyes and smiled. “This is all very relaxing. Thank you.”

Oriya smiled back. 

“Well, since sex will have to wait, do you have any ideas on how to spend the time?”

“Watch a film? Tao introduced me to Bollywood films this week.”

“Tao should not be allowed to watch TV. Ever.” Feilong sat up and looked at him, laughing. “You. Watching Bollywood films.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just, you live three centuries out of synch with the rest of the world. And I used to think my father was old-fashioned.” 

“So?”

“Nothing. Let’s watch Bollywood.” Feilong reached down and started petting his hair.

Oriya half-closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “Or maybe a Chinese film? A historical one? With a happy ending.”

“Or maybe a comedy. A proper one. Not a horror film that you think it’s funny.” Feilong smiled. “Or maybe we can do nothing.” 

Oriya reached for the remote and turned the music on. Brahm’s Piano Trios started playing softly. “Is that good?”

“Yes.” Better than your beloved minimalists, Feilong smiled. 

Oriya felt Feilong unwind slowly, the music soothing Feilong better than tea or perfumes. When Feilong smiled at him and reached for the book he was reading those days, Oriya felt himself relax as well. All would be well.


	12. Chapter 12

Feilong put down the phone with a smile. 

“Good news?”

“Yes. Akihito just told me he’s fed up with Asami and he’s on his way here.” Feilong grinned. “He knows I can take care of him.”

Oriya nodded, not looking up from his book. “Of course you can.”

Feilong smirked. “Akihito knows that I can keep Asami away from him.” His house was the safest place in Hong Kong for Akihito. 

“And if…” Oriya shook his head. “Never mind.” 

“He told me a funny thing, Akihito. That while he was waiting to board the plane he saw a white-haired man dressed all in white waiting with them. He looked paler than porcelain. Funny, huh? Muraki hadn’t told me he was visiting.”

Oriya shrugged. “If he is, this is the first time I hear of it.”

“If he is, will you deal with him? I don’t want him to meet Akihito.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you. Their plane just landed. If you call Muraki now, you can intercept him somewhere before he comes here.”

Oriya gave Feilong a disgusted glare as he stood up. “Should I pack my things while I’m at it?”

“No, you can stay here, if you want.”

Oriya threw his book at Feilong. Feilong blocked it easily, making Oriya angrier. “You can do whatever you want with Akihito. If Muraki is here, I’ll stay with him,” he shouted. “I’m going.”

“Fine.”

Oriya growled several curses as he stomped to their room. Only the bang as he shut the door was louder. 

Feilong grinned. What a temper. He picked up Oriya’s book and opened it at a random page. “We women can rarely do as we wish,” he read aloud and closed it immediately. Ah, Oriya and the miserable story of the fall of the Heike clan. Why did he like this so much?

“I’m going,” Oriya said as he opened the door, his suitcase in his hand.

“You know the way." 

Oriya glared at him. “I’m off,” he shouted again.

“Yes, yes. And if Muraki is here, thank you for keeping him away from me.” 

“Hmmm,” Oriya growled as he started towards the door.

Feilong waited until Oriya stepped next to him. Then he grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. He didn’t like annoying Oriya but, as much as he liked Muraki, this time he wanted him away from him. Muraki may have liked gossiping about everyone, often giving Feilong valuable information about his rivals between sipping tea and eating dim sum, but he also liked young men. The prettier the better, and, from what Feilong knew, most of the young men to catch Muraki’s fancy did not survive long. Last thing he needed was to protect Akihito from Muraki. Asami he could handle; Muraki? He wasn’t so sure. “Thank you,” he said again, kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

Oriya huffed, but his expression softened. 

“I’ll call you later,” Feilong said as he let him go. 

“Alright,” he said meekly. 

Feilong sat down the moment Oriya left the room. What a temper Oriya had, and how quickly it passed. Feilong would never stop being amused by it, even when he felt a little guilty for upsetting him in the first place. 

&*&*

By the time he had arrived at the airport his annoyance was gone. He smirked when he spotted Muraki. “You bastard, you were going to hide from me again?”

“Oriya, I…” Muraki started.

Oriya hit him on the back of the head. “Shut up. I am not in the mood for lies today.”

Muraki smirked. “Who else lied to you today?”

“So you were going to lie to me,” Oriya glared at Muraki as he guided him to the car. 

“Eh… “ Muraki shrugged. “I would only hide the truth a little,” he said as he got in and fastened his seat belt. 

Oriya felt disappointed. He started the engine and pretended to care more about driving than Muraki.

“I didn’t want you to know I was coming because you will not like the reason I am here.”

“Which is?”

Muraki looked outside. 

“Muraki,” Oriya growled. “I’m really not in the mood for games.” He spotted the exit for the North Country Park. “Either you tell me now why you are here, or I’ll take you to the park and beat it out of you.”

Muraki chuckled. “Take me to my hotel, and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Fine.”

Muraki smiled again. “I would have told you anyway, had you waited for two more minutes. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?” Muraki took off his glasses and started cleaning them. “Something did, or you wouldn’t be so annoyed. Is it Feilong? Do I need to go and defend your honour?”

“Muraki,” he sighed.

“Or maybe just kick his ass until he apologizes for whatever he did?”

“Muraki,” he continued sighing.

Muraki snorted. “You’re too soft on him. What did he do?”

“Tell me why you’re here, and I may tell you what happened.”

“Deal. I’m here because… Promise to be calm and drive carefully?”

“Muraki,” he shouted. 

“Fine. I need to find a gift for your birthday.” 

“But I’m not celebrating my birthday.”

“So you think,” Muraki muttered. 

“Gods, not another party organized by Tami-san.”

“Worse. Your Father.”

“What?” He shouted and glared at Muraki, suspecting he was behind the idea. 

“Eyes on the road, Oriya.”

“What?” he asked again, more softly.

“You heard me.”

“Tell them, no, tell him that I will not be there.”

“And where will you be, dear? Here?” Muraki asked with a wicked grin. 

“You were going to organize an alternate surprise party here with Feilong’s help,” Oriya accused him. 

“Yes. And I will do it.” Muraki pretended to shudder. “Your Father scares me. I can’t say no to him.”

Oriya suddenly laughed. “You know you are considered one of the most frightening men around?”

“Yes, but my reputation means nothing to you Mibu men.” Muraki smiled at him charmingly. “Or have you started being afraid of me?”

Oriya hit him again.

Muraki laughed. “Now that you know, will you play along?”

“Maybe. It depends on your gift.”

“I don’t know what I’ll get you yet.”

“I want a pipa. I saw a magnificent one from the 16th century the other day.”

“I’ll charge your Father for anything over a million yen.”

Oriya shook his head. “You value me so little that you won’t spend more than that on me?”

“You are so spoiled,” Muraki grinned. “Fine, give me the address of the shop you saw the bloody instrument.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything,” Oriya said quietly. “Just be with me.”

“What happened?” Muraki managed to sound both concerned and curious. 

“Nothing. But we’ve been friends for what feels like forever. You are irreplaceable to me.”

“Did Feilong…”

Oriya shook his head. 

“Hm,” Muraki said. “That’s it. You’re staying with me while I’m here. And if absence won’t make that idiot’s heart fonder, then you should forget about him.”

Oriya smiled. “Tell me, has Father started making the list of guests already?”

“Ah, yes, yes.”

As Muraki started telling him of Father’s plans, Oriya felt himself relax. It seemed like he would manage to keep Muraki occupied for the duration of his visit. 

&*&*

Akihito yawned. “And, anyway, that’s when I slammed the door in his face, took the first taxi to the airport and… here I am. Thank you, Feilong.”

“Don’t mention it. What are friends for?”

Akihito smiled softly at him. “True.” He put the wet towel on the table and brought his knees up, making himself look small and vulnerable. “It’s not like I put myself in harm’s way on purpose.”

“No, trouble follows you naturally,” Feilong grinned. 

“It does,” Akihito protested. He yawned again. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“You’re emotionally tired, that’s why.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Akihito sighed. “Why can’t Asami understand that I’m not a child to need his protection?”

“Maybe because you keep going against people who could kill you without a second thought, even though you have Asami’s protection?”

“So, what should I do? Look the other way when I see people sold as slaves in my hometown? I was there for a fucking vacation, I wasn’t even looking for a story.”

Feilong nodded. 

Akihito hugged his knees. “I wasn’t looking for any trouble, but he doesn’t believe me. he thinks I’m so obsessed with finding scoops that I will follow even the slightest hint of scandal until I have uncovered the truth.”

Feilong smiled. “While you innocently and blithely walk along the path of life, never overhearing what people say in the hot spring next to you.”

Akihito blushed. “Well… Okay, I do follow my instincts when I hear something suspicious. Even if it’s something overheard in the hot spring.” He stood up. “Is it okay if I go to rest now? Can you wake me up for dinner?”

“Of course.”

Feilong watched as Akihito unfolded himself from the sofa and headed for the guest room. A moment later he followed him. He opened the door as Akihito stripped.

“Ah. Ah, it’s you,” Akihito said and continued taking his clothes off without a care. His skin was tanned, and he looked in better shape than the last time Feilong had seen him. 

“You’ve been working out.”

“Yes,” Akihito grinned. “Asami insists we practice together at least three times a week. He’s such a slave-driver.”

“He’s concerned about your well-being. As am I. Akihito, you must learn to exercise caution. Next time you hear something that can potentially put you in danger…”

“Go to the police?” Akihito snorted.

“Go to Asami. Or come to me. You don’t have to investigate things alone.”

“I can’t imagine you or Asami on a stake-out with me.”

“Maybe not,” Feilong grinned, “but we can send someone to have your back.”

Akihito fell on the bed. “Why can’t Asami be as reasonable as you about things?” he cried out, covering his eyes with his hands. 

Feilong took a deep breath. Asami, Asami, nothing but Asami. “Because he loves you,” he finally said. “Love knows no reason.”

Akihito let his hands fall back. He stared at him and slowly smiled. “And you are reasonable because you are my friend,” he said with a wondrous expression. 

“Yes, I am,” Feilong smiled again, and threw the light blanket on Akihito. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk at dinner.”

Akihito curled in himself under the cover. “Fei? Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“Don’t mention it. Just rest. You’re safe here.” He closed the door softly behind him and leaned against it. 

How strange it was to see Akihito without any desire? So strange. Akihito was still lovely, still beautiful, still warm and passionate, still caring, still impetuous, and despite all that, Feilong no longer found him desirable. He loved him, of course he did, but he could live without him next to him. He could imagine his bed without Akihito in it. 

He sighed. While he was finally free of his old love, Oriya probably shared a bed with his. Ah, what an idiot he was. 

He took out his mobile and called Asami. He wouldn’t let him turn into a bigger fool than Feilong. 

&*&*

Muraki lied down. “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said. “Traveling is tiring.” He stared at Oriya. “Will you join me?”

“No, thank you, I’m in the middle of the chapter and…”

“A book is more appealing than me?”

Oriya smiled and nodded. 

“When did that happen?”

“I don’t know.” Oriya put down his mobile. “I love you, I always will,” he told Muraki seriously, “but I don’t need more than your presence.”

“You are over me, you are saying.”

“I’m saying…” Oriya frowned. “I’m saying, I love you, but I don’t want to make love to you.”

Muraki grinned. “You don’t have to. Just come here.” 

Oriya approached him carefully. 

Muraki used a little tendril of magic to make Oriya fall on the bed next to him. 

“You bastard,” Oriya glared at him. 

Muraki hugged him, closing his eyes. “Why couldn’t you be my brother?” he whispered. 

Oriya hugged him back. 

Muraki smiled as he felt himself drift into sleep. Oriya probably thought he needed some human warmth, the comfort of a friendly touch. What he needed was Oriya’s insane amounts of energy, and without sex, he didn’t have to spend any of his own energy as he drew Oriya’s. Although… the warmth wasn’t bad either, nor the hug. Much more soothing the calm embrace than the momentary ecstasy of sex. Much better.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I can't write action for love or money.... (well, love in this case). The muses wouldn't shut up... so much for doing some work on this day off...  
> Also, variations on tropes :)

Akihito rubbed his eyes. “Good mor… What is he doing here?” he asked as he saw Asami sitting next to Feilong. 

Asami lifted his cup. His slightly raised eyebrow seemed to mock him. 

“I thought I could trust you,” he said instead to Feilong. “Guess I was wrong.”

Feilong picked up his cup. “I’ll go to the study. It’s quieter.”

“Traitor,” Akihito muttered, glaring at Feilong’s back. Asami smirked. “I’m not talking to you,” he said, turning his glare at Asami.

“Akihito,” Asami said softly.

“No, I’m not. I’m going for a walk.”

“You can’t solve our relationship problems without talking.”

“Hah. See if I care about solving them anymore.” Akihito slammed the door on his way out of the room. Let Asami think about that. He’d had enough of being treated like a child needing protection.

No, what he needed was a cup of good, strong coffee and breakfast outside in the sun. “Tao,” he shouted outside Tao’s room. “I’m going for a walk. Want to join me?”

Tao opened the door quietly. “Erm… I have chores to do.”

“Don’t you have any shopping to do today? Any chores that involve you going out?”

Tao frowned a little. “I guess I do.” He grinned and stepped out of his room. “Yes, I do. Let me pick up the grocery list from Cook, and we can go.”

As Akihito followed him, he realized what Asami had said. Oh, so he finally acknowledged that they had relationship problems? But did that mean they had to talk about them? Asami would ignore whatever Akihito said, and then expected Akihito to do as Asami ordered. Well, he’d had enough of that.

“You look unhappy,” Tao told him as they walked out of the building. 

“I do?”

“You haven’t said anything in five minutes,” Tao observed. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“Yes, Tao, I know,” he smiled. “It’s nothing important.”

“If it weren’t important you wouldn’t have come here,” Tao continued. “You don’t visit Feilong-sama that often, and every time you do, something happens.”

Akihito grinned. 

“Not that I mind.” Tao smiled at him. “I like it when you visit, and Feilong-sama likes you very much as well.”

He nodded. Feilong sometimes liked him a bit too much. “Huh.” 

“What?”

“Nothing, I just realized something.” For the first time in a while Feilong had not made an attempt to flirt with him. Even when he followed Akihito into the guest bedroom he stayed by the door. “Huh,” he smiled. Feilong must have finally found happiness with Oriya. Speaking of whom… “Hey, Tao….”

Tao shook his head and suddenly turned inside a narrow street lined with small shops. He started walking a little faster. “Akihito, did you notice we are being followed?”

“We are?”

“Yes. When I tell you to run, you run."

Akihito nodded, looking back.

“Don’t do that,” Tao said hurriedly, grabbing his arm. He turned to the left, into another narrow, crowded street. “Run.”

Akihito followed him. Did the people from Morioka’s gang follow him even there, or were they after Tao? 

“When I tell you, turn left. We’ll meet at home.”

“But…”

Tao grinned cheekily. “This is my city. Trust me.”

Akihito grinned, although he still felt concerned. 

“Now.” 

Akihito did. The street ahead was so crowded that whoever was following him would have great difficulty finding him. He slowed his pace so as to blend in with the shoppers. Just another busy person annoyed by the slow-walking tourists next to him. just another passerby on his way home. 

“Tao will be fine,” he told himself. If they were after him, even if they did manage to catch Tao, they would leave Tao alone. And if they were after Tao, they wouldn’t hurt him. Tao was too valuable a hostage. 

Still, he couldn’t help but worry all the way back to Feilong’s home. Whoever was after them no longer followed him. Had he caught Tao? 

&*&*

“Is Tao back?” 

Asami looked up. Feilong frowned too. Akihito was loud, and sounded stressed. A moment later Akihito walked into Feilong’s private living room. He looked stressed. 

“Tao is not back yet, is he?”

“Not that I know of. Akihito, stop pacing and sit. What happened?”

Akihito looked at Asami first, as if looking for reassurance. Asami nodded minutely. 

“We went out for a walk this morning.”

Asami cocked his head. A walk? More like Akihito had walked out on him when he asked Akihito to stay and talk. 

“Tao noticed that someone was following us, and so we first ran and then split up. We were to meet here.”

“But Tao is not here yet,” Feilong said slowly. 

Akihito nodded, looking miserable. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t,” he glanced at Asami, cheeks reddening for a second, “If I hadn’t wanted to go out with Tao, Tao would be safe now.”

“If they were after Tao, Tao wouldn’t be safe anyway,” Asami said. 

“That’s not helping,” Feilong said coldly. He stood up. “I’ll have a couple of my men look for Tao.”

“Will you join them?” Asami asked.

“If they are after Tao, they are after me. I’ll wait for them to make their demands. And if they after Akihito, well,” he smiled grimly, “they can try getting him from here.”

Asami nodded, smiling. He would have gone after them personally, but then again, he approved of Feilong learning to exercise caution. 

Feilong opened the door and Tao crashed into him. “Fei-sama.”

Feilong knelt so he could hug Tao properly. “You’re fine.”

Tao nodded against Feilong’s chest. “They gave me a message for Akihito.” Tao looked at Akihito. “They said that you can run, and you can hide, but they will get you.”

Akihito sighed. 

Feilong let go of Tao. “Tao, why don’t you make us all some tea?”

“Yes, Fei-sama.”

The moment the door closed, Feilong pinched his nose. 

“I won’t put you in danger, Feilong,” Akihito said.

Asami nodded. He could – and would – protect Akihito just as well, or better than Feilong. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” He sat down, frowning. “If the gang that is after you is involved in human trafficking, then Oriya might be able to help. Only, he’s with Muraki now.”

Ah, from out of the fire into the frying pan, then. Asami didn’t want Muraki anywhere near Akihito either. 

“Why can Oriya help?” Akihito suddenly asked. 

“Ah…” Feilong looked away. 

Asami stood up. “Why don’t you call Oriya? I’ll explain a few things to Aki.” He pulled Akihito by the arm.

Akihito immediately protested. Asami ignored him as he led him to his room. Akihito deserved a spanking for running off like that, and he was of a mind to give it to him. But later, after they solved their relationship issues, and Aki was still with him. 

&*&*

“And that’s what happened,” Akihito finished telling his story for the third time: how he’d overheard the people bathing next to him talk about a shipment in suspicious terms, followed them, and eventually found himself at a secret auction of women, some as young as ten. “I would have contacted the police, but they have been after me ever since. I thought I had escaped them, and I could get in touch with the authorities from here but they followed me here as well.”

Oriya looked down. “People like that deserve to burn in hell,” he muttered. 

“But,” Akihito stopped himself before asking Oriya if he thought he was better. He was managing a secret brothel after all. 

Oriya snorted. “I see why you wanted to see me,” he said to Feilong. “I don’t know if I can do much, personally.”

Asami narrowed his eyes for a second. 

“But… I know people who know people, and...” He stood up. “I’ll go back to the hotel and see what I can do.” 

“You’re not staying?” Feilong asked softly. 

“You don’t need me here, do you?” Oriya asked just as quietly. 

Feilong shook his head. “No, I don’t need you here. I want you.”

“Ah,” Oriya said with a smile. “In that case, I’ll go to the study and make a few calls. I’ll be done by dinner time.”

Feilong stopped him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll come get you if you’re late,” he said in a low, seductive tone that Akihito hadn’t heard in a long while. 

Oriya probably wasn’t used to hearing that tone either; the blush on his cheeks after Feilong’s kiss expanded to the rest of his face, and he hurried out. 

Feilong shook his head, smiling. “He’s so ill-suited to his night job,” he said softly. “But he can help.”

“His Father’s connections can,” Asami nodded. “More than mine, in this case.”

“Although it would fun to go to war for Akihito’s sake, wouldn’t it?” Feilong grinned. 

Asami smiled slowly. “Well, I wouldn’t call it fun.”

“Admit it, you’d enjoy it.”

“So would you.”

“Hehe.”

Akihito closed his eyes as they laughed and made up plans of what they would do if Oriya’s connections failed him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that his life was a bizarre soap opera, where the only decent character was Tao. Because he felt so reassured and safe knowing that two of the most dangerous men in this side of the world were ready to take on big, bad dragons for his sake. How messed up was that? 

&*&*

The last call was to Muraki. “Dinner at Feilong’s in an hour.”

Muraki snorted. “Now they want me there?”

“Not they, I.”

“Ah. Ah. Alright. What will you give me if I’ll be on my best behavior?” 

“I won’t kick you in the head,” Oriya told him, annoyed. 

“Ah,” Muraki laughed. “Fine, I’ll see you all in an hour. I’ve been looking forward to meeting Asami’s Takaba.”

Oriya cut off the call before Muraki could continue. After dealing with his father, he needed a respite from everyone, and that included both Muraki and Feilong. He texted Feilong that he was going to have a bath, and then went to fill the tub. 

Smelling the various oils made his headache a little better. If only he could indulge in his passion for perfumes at home, but no, his scent was not supposed to distract from that of tea, or food, or of the women. No, no, he would not think of home. He would not think of what he would do when he returned. He would think of nothing but the lovely scents that waited for him to use. 

He was going through an amber phase, he decided. He poured some of a gel that smelled of heady sandalwood and amber and started washing himself. There was a hint of a flower scent too, instantly soothing. More amber, together with lavender, went in the tub in the form of oil, and Oriya closed his eyes when he immersed himself in the water. 

All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Instead he had Muraki, who’d found a new way to use him, judging by how tired he felt. He had Akihito, who’d probably manage to get himself in trouble just by sneezing. He had Father, who agreed with him that men like Morioka gave men like them a bad name, and so he’d tasked Oriya with ‘clean-up duty’ when he returned. He had Feilong, who couldn’t even tell him he loved him. 

The men in his life made him miss the women in it. Auntie who kept pinching his cheeks, and Tami-san who shouted at him and hit him with her fan, both of them acting as if he were still an undisciplined four-year-old. They were abusive, but at least they didn’t make his heart ache. 

Ah, what had he done in his past life to live this one? 

&*&*

“I would have enjoyed fighting a war to protect you,” Asami told Akihito when they were finally alone. 

“I’m glad that you won’t have to,” Akihito replied. “I’m still angry at you.”

“Yet, you chose to share my room tonight.”

“Yes, because the one I used is right next to the one Muraki chose to spend the night. Why did he have to stay here?” Akihito shuddered. Muraki had spent most of dinner staring at him with naked curiosity. As for the single glimpse Akihito had had of his fake eye… Akihito shuddered again. That eye would give him nightmares for years. 

“Because he’s Oriya’s best friend,” Asami said, sounding disgusted. “I’m not happy about him staying the night either.” He approached him. 

“You said you’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“You insist on that?”

“Yes. We haven’t talked about anything yet.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“The fact that you don’t trust me to keep myself safe.”

Asami snorted. “Do you?”

“I do… Kind of.”

“You tried to keep yourself safe by running out of our home, coming here, not telling Feilong you were being followed, and all you managed was to get Tao kidnapped.”

Akihito flushed. “That wasn’t…. yes, that’s what happened, but I wouldn’t have left our home if you had trusted me. You told me I should stay put and always go out with an escort, as if I need constant protection.”

“You do, though,” Asami growled. 

“I don’t.” Akihito ran past Asami. “I don’t,” he shouted as he slammed the door on his way out. Sharing a room with Asami had been such a bad idea. He loved Asami, but Asami frustrated him so much.

He took a few steps when he heard soft music coming from Feilong’s living room. He knocked on the door softly before opening it. 

Oriya didn’t stop playing when he came in. Feilong put down his book, though, and smiled at him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Asami is such a pain.”

“He loves you,” Feilong said softly. “And I can understand why.”

“He thinks I’m a child,” Akihito said as he sat on the sofa facing Feilong, knowing that he was pouting but unable to stop himself.

Oriya chuckled. “The ones who love us often do.”

“Feilong doesn’t think you’re a child.”

Oriya snorted at that. 

“Oriya is a five-year-old in the body of a grown-up,” Feilong smirked. “A very competent five-year-old,” he continued, obviously unrepentant and amused by his own comment.

“Auntie thinks I’m four,” Oriya smiled. 

“I agree with her,” Muraki said from the door. 

“Hm, of course you would.” Oriya stopped playing and glared at Muraki. 

Muraki sat next to Akihito, making his skin crawl. “Please, don’t stop on my account. What were we discussing? Oriya’s true age? It’s twelve hundred and some years, but who’s counting?”

Oriya looked at Muraki strangely, but so did Feilong, and so Akihito did not feel bad about doing the same. 

“You are so strange,” Feilong muttered. 

Muraki gave them all a brilliant smile. Akihito couldn’t decide if it was charming or creepy. 

Oriya plucked a string suddenly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t secure your immediate safety,” he told Akihito over the soft, tremulous music he played. “But things will be quiet soon, and then you will be able to return to your normal life.”

Akihito sighed. “It’s okay. I’d rather not have anyone fight for me. So, your Father will talk to Morioka, you said, and after that I can go home?”

“Yes, more or less,” Oriya said, looking at the music sheet before him. 

“Or you can stay with Asami,” Feilong said. “He will keep you safe.”

“Hm.”

“I will, though,” Asami said, closing the door softly behind him. He sat next to Feilong.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Akihito whined. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” Asami said. “You can stay here, or you can come home with me.”

“I wouldn’t mind you staying with me either,” Muraki whispered in Akihito’s ear. 

Akihito shifted, uncomfortable and far too aware that by sitting by the arm-rest, he’d effectively let Muraki trap him. “Erm…” 

“Muraki will be busy,” Oriya said sharply. “You won’t have time for guests.”

“Will I?” Muraki said annoyed, but the next moment he sprang up, crossed the room in three strides and sat next to Oriya. “You mean… I can work for your Family again?” he said breathlessly.

Oriya nodded, staring at Muraki. 

“Ah.” 

Muraki sighed so happily that it was definitely creepy and it made the hairs on the back of Akihito’s neck stand up. It probably made Asami worry, for Asami stood up and went to sit by Akihito. The heat emanating from Asami made Akihito warm in ways that had nothing to do with the flesh. 

“I think I’ll go home with you,” Akihito whispered, reaching for Asami’s hand. “But you are still sleeping on the sofa until we sort things out.”

Asami nodded, eyes shining and mouth turning upwards into a tiny smile. 

Akihito noticed that Feilong smirked a little at their exchange but ignored him. Asami was home. He only had to make him understand that he was not a child…. He looked at Oriya, playing music as if he had no care in the world while Muraki lay down on the floor beside him, eyes closed, and hands busy untangling the dark mass of Oriya’s hair. 

Oriya didn’t mind that everyone thought he was childish. He seemed to think it was proof of their love for him. Should Akihito try to be like him? 

He shook his head. No, that wasn’t him. Asami would have to accept him as he was; he wouldn’t change for Asami. “I’m going to bed. Good night everyone,” he said quietly, standing up. “Asami?”

Asami got up immediately. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Feilong, Oriya, and Muraki said almost at once. 

“Can you play something else than flowing clouds and waters?” Akihito heard Muraki as he closed the door. 

“Am I really sleeping on the sofa?” Asami asked him.

“You bet.”

“Ah. When you let me into your bed, I will give you a spanking you will not forget for your behaviour.”

The warmth that tingled in Akihito’s belly had a lot to do with desire. “If you let me spank you for the way you’ve been treating me, I will let you into my bed,” he whispered huskily. 

Asami shivered. “Deal.”

Akihito turned and kissed him. “I can’t wait for us to go home.” He could put up with his confinement until Oriya’s father dealt with Morioka if only Asami were with him. 

&*&*

Feilong waited until Oriya finished playing Battling Against the Typhoon and then he stood up. “I should go to bed as well,” he said softly. He wouldn’t ask Oriya to join him. If he wanted Muraki, he could have him. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Oriya said quietly, barely audible over the beginning of a variation on the Plum Blossom. 

Muraki didn’t say anything, perhaps already fallen asleep. 

Feilong sighed after he closed the door. He sighed again as he started taking off his clothes, and one more time as he put on his pyjamas. He wanted to stop being generous, but how could he after so long? He wasn’t even jealous; he just wanted Oriya all to himself now that he knew that he loved him. 

He lay down and looked at the pile of books on his night-stand. Did he feel like reading poetry or maybe a novel? He picked up the volume of poems by Wang Wei and opened it at a random page. Wasn’t that a form of fortune-telling in the past? 

Feilong shook his head. In a retreat among bamboos. A poem about loneliness. How appropriate. Only he was not the musician; the musician was in the next room. The door suddenly opened, and Feilong smiled. “The moon comes bright,” he read aloud the last line and put the book down. 

“You felt how lonely I was, plucking my zither?” Oriya smiled back as he started untying his obi. 

“Perhaps.” Perhaps that book fortune-telling worked after all. “Stop.”

“What?”

“Come here. I want to unwrap you.”

Oriya blushed a little as he fell on the bed obediently. Feilong leaned over him and took off the waist-string that kept Oriya’s kimono in place before throwing it on the floor. He spread the kimono open and nuzzled him. 

“I love the way you smell,” Feilong sighed as he started untying the second waist-string. He did; Oriya smelled of roses together with exotic, heady flowers and amber placed inside a dark, scented wooden box. “I like the way you smell in Kyoto too, all fresh and clean, pristine and waiting for my touch, but I like the way you smell here too, intoxicating and inviting, sensual and experienced.”

Oriya looked away from him. “Not so experienced,” he mumbled. 

Feilong grinned. So Oriya kept saying, but Feilong did not believe him. “I thought you’d spend the night with Muraki,” he said as he pushed open the silk under-kimono, confirming once more that the silk of Oriya’s skin was much more pleasant to the touch. 

“No. I’m finished with spending the nights with Muraki. I love him, but,” Oriya shrugged.

“But?”

Oriya shrugged again. 

“Not like that?” Feilong suggested softly.

“Yes. Not like that. Not anymore.”

Feilong grinned as he leaned over a small nipple that begged him to be sucked. No more old loves – for both of them. “Thank you for the food,” he said seriously, bringing his hands together. 

Oriya laughed and pushed his head down. “Yes, now have your fill.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't leave anything alone.... Apologies!

Feilong opened the door to the bathroom, grinning at the sight of Oriya in the tub with his eyes closed and covered in bubbles. The air was heady with the scents of amber, pine, and musk. 

“What is it?” Oriya suddenly asked him. 

“Just wondering if we could skip dinner.”

Oriya looked at him. “Eh?” 

“Well, not completely. Just....” Dinner at home. “Never mind. The chef at the restaurant we’re going is a protégé of mine. I can’t not show up.” Even though he suddenly wanted to have Oriya as appetizer and dessert. “Our reservation is for eight. Don’t be late.”

Oriya grinned as he closed his eyes again. “I’ll be ready on time.”

Feilong snorted. He should be, or Feilong would drag him out to the restaurant in his bathrobe. That dreadful ivory one that made him look washed out and, Feilong suspected, that he only wore it to piss off Feilong.

&*&*

“Have you read Poe’s sequel to the One Thousand and One Nights?” Feilong asked the moment the waiter took their order. 

“Eh?”

“It’s a short story. Scheherazade tells one tall tale too many and Shahryār has her executed the next day.”

Oriya studied him. “What are you saying?”

“She talks of automata, computing machines, and hot air balloons. Inventions and discoveries of Poe’s time. But for the first time, Shahryār, who had believed in djinns and ogres and magic, does not believe her.”

“Hm.” He played with his napkin for a few moments. “Have you read the story of the man who married the Dragon King’s daughter?” he asked as he put it down. 

“No.”

“They stay together for a few years, but the man grows homesick. She can’t join him in the world of mortals and so they part forever.” 

“What are you saying?”

“It’s just a short story,” Oriya shrugged. 

“A short story, huh?” Feilong smiled. “Are you threatening me?”

“Me? I only said that there was a story about a couple that separated. You spoke of a story when the husband killed his wife. What is more threatening?”

Feilong nodded. “Yes, it would seem like that, wouldn’t it? I read about a new translation of Poe’s works the other day and it reminded me of the story, that’s all.”

“Really?”

Feilong laughed. Oriya looked so calm that Feilong knew he was seething inside. “Yes. It made me think, you could tell me as many tall tales as Scheherazade, but, unlike Shahryār, I wouldn’t mind. Not that you’ve ever lied to me. No, you’re as honest as a hammer.”

Oriya snorted, twisting the napkin again. Yes, Oriya was so annoyed, he’d probably hit Feilong on the head with his pipe if he had it with him. 

“It was a compliment,” Feilong said. “And,” he added quickly and then stopped, knowing that curiosity always distracted Oriya and made him forget his anger. “Well.”

Oriya managed to hold on to his calmness for two seconds. “And? What?” He shouted. “What?” he said more softly a moment later, grinning in embarrassment and bowing slightly to the people at the table next to them. 

“You know it took three years for Shahryār to love Scheherazade, right?”

“Yes? And?”

“It only took me two to love you.”

“Ah,” Oriya shouted again, smiling widely. “We should have stayed at home tonight,” he mumbled, after bowing in different directions in apology. “You can’t tell me such things and don’t expect me to react.”

Feilong laughed. “True. But it’s fun when you get so embarrassed. You know you get all red here?” Feilong raised his hand to his neck, and ran his finger upwards. “And here, and here too.”

Oriya’s blush reached to his temples and he looked at him. Feilong couldn’t stop himself from reaching across the table. “And you look so confused,” he said softly, flicking his finger on the tip of Oriya’s nose, making him inhale sharply. “I’m sorry, I enjoy it so.”

“Well, if it were anyone else I’d say that this is mean, to enjoy my…”

“Confusion? Embarrassment?” Oriya glared for a moment and Feilong’s smile turned into a wide grin. “Yes, maybe it is mean. But what about you? Do you love me?”

“You know what the Dragon King’s daughter tells her mortal husband as they part? What does it matter if you are there, and I am here? We are husband and wife, and love each other. In our hearts it is as if we are still in the same room.”

Feilong took a deep breath. He felt himself harden. “Fuck. We should have stayed at home tonight.”

Oriya laughed loudly. 

Yes, they should have stayed at home after all, because how could he wait that long? 

“Forget dinner.” Oriya said, laughter cut off suddenly, as he stood up. “Apologize to the chef now. We’re going home.”

“Best idea you’ve had today.”

Oriya smiled a little, as if he wanted to say something else. “Go. I’ll wait at the entrance.”

A low heat spread in his belly. He was going to be ravished, wasn’t he? He hurried to the kitchen. The sooner he apologized, the sooner they’d be at home. He really couldn’t wait.


End file.
